The Aftermath
by noble-lie
Summary: Each of the Animorphs reacted to the war in a different way. Some were defined by it. Others tried to move past it. This is Cassie's story, from the end of the war to the end of the last book and beyond. Canon-compliant, spoilers for the ending. Content warning: canon-typical violence, depiction of mental health issues, some language and implied sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

My name is Cassie Price. And I was tired.

You know that kind of tired you get after you've pulled an all-nighter at school? Now imagine doing that for three years solid. Oh, and combine that with constantly being as scared as you've ever been and as miserable as you can imagine.

But we won.

My name is Cassie Price, and I am an Animorph.

There were six of us to start with. Me. Jake. Marco. Ax. Tobias. Rachel.

Now there were only five.

It sounds insane, right? We started out as five kids—just kids. Thirteen year olds, being edgy, cutting through a construction site to show how cool and brave we were. Then, we met a dying Andalite, an alien who told us about an invasion and gave us the power to fight it. The power to turn into any animal.

Later, we were joined by Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill—we call him Ax—also just a kid of his own species.

Six kids against an army. Who would you bet on?

But we won. We won, and we negotiated terms, and Jake kept his promises. To the Yeerks, to the Taxxons, to the Hork-Bajir. I should have been happy, ecstatic about that.

Or maybe I should have been sobbing. Rachel, my best friend, Jake's cousin, was dead. Dead on a suicide mission to kill Jake's own brother. And we jettisoned seventeen thousand Yeerks into the vacuum of space to do it.

But mostly I was just tired.

The press conference had taken a really long time. Needless to say, if you announce the defeat of an alien invasion, the media has a few questions. Mostly Jake and Ax dealt with that, with assists from Marco. Tobias flew off partway through, and I envied him for it.

I think it was Marco who finally called an end to it. Jake probably would have kept going, but Marco's good at knowing a crowd. 'Keep them hungry for more,' he'd have said. I do remember it was the Hork-Bajir who did crowd control. Peaceful or not, no reporter is going to get pushy against a line of Hork-Bajir.

Apparently my parents got there at some point. Probably they were at the press conference, but I don't really remember. It's funny, from the time we evacuated them, we Animorphs mostly saw our parents as people who had to be protected for their own good. But I remember my mom looking at some five-star general and telling him she'd take me from there, and glaring at him until he let me go with them.

Humans are funny. You never know what we'll do until we're pushed into a corner.

When we got to the hotel, I just remember lying down and being too tired to even undress. The last thing I remember is my mom tucking me in. Like I was still a kid, like we were still home.

It felt nice.

* * *

I woke up slowly, and at first I mostly noticed that I was actually comfortable and warm for once. We'd been living in the woods for months, ever since the Yeerks realized what we were and came after us. We were lucky to live in California instead of somewhere that gets snow regularly, but we'd still all been hungry and cold a lot.

I could hear my parents talking nearby too. We shared a tent, so it wasn't unusual for me to hear them in the morning, although it was unusual for them to be up first. The nightmares are usually bad, and there's always stuff for us to do, so I'm usually out of the tent before dawn.

I figured that if I moved, I was probably going to wake up in my cold cot instead of in a warm dream bed, so I stayed still, and tried to block out the voices so I could go back to sleep.

"Do you remember her first day of school?" That was my mom's voice, and I heard my dad laugh in response.

"She stormed home, furious because the teacher read a book where a knight killed a dragon, and she was angry that they hadn't at least tried to negotiate with it." Her father, amused, although she heard the sad note in it too. "It's—it's hard to believe that she got pulled into all this."

That annoyed me, almost enough to move, but not quite. We were there, the five of us, when Elfangor's ship crashed. Were we supposed to ignore it because it was hard? Let the world be taken over and pretend we didn't know? Or maybe I was annoyed because I wished the same sometimes. Remembered the days when the biggest thing I was worried about was my next math test, or whether Jake liked me…

Memory returned. Jake. Rachel. The press conference.

I sat up suddenly, gasping as the shock crashed over me like a cold bucket of water. _God, Rachel, no. No._ But I knew it was true. I knew it had happened.

Someone grabbed me and I lashed out hard with an elbow, calling up the wolf form in my head on instinct, feeling my bones shift, my mouth lengthen. I was halfway into wolf morph before I registered my mother sitting on the floor, looking shocked, my father staring at me.

Right. Not a threat.

I demorphed, feeling like a complete idiot. "Mom, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

She smiled a little as my dad helped her up. "I'm fine, Cassie. You've got a good elbow on you now."

I nodded a little, not trusting myself to speak, and carefully walked into the bathroom, trying to ignore the looks on my parents' faces. Fear. Fear of me.

I walked into the bathroom, closed the door, and stared at myself in the oversized mirror.

I was still in my morphing clothes, which were honestly filthy. One time, Rachel said that I'd have worn my barn coveralls to school, covered in animal dung, if she wasn't around, but that wasn't quite true. I didn't mind being dirty when I was working, and I certainly never cared about fashion, but I did like to clean up when I was done. But it hadn't been a high priority the last few months, and clean drinking water mattered more than laundry. At any rate, it was looser now that it was before. I'd lost weight, I guess—and not in the turning-to-muscle way people like. Mostly I just looked thin. It occurred to me, almost distantly, that I had apparently gone through an entire press conference being watched by millions of people in nothing but a leotard and bike shorts. Someone had gotten me shoes at some point, evidently, although they didn't really fit.

I stared at my face in the mirror. I was dirty, and my hair was escaping its braids a little. Most of the stains you get when you fight in morph stay with the morph, but some things come back with you. Blood under your fingernails. Matter in your teeth. Mostly I looked at my eyes. They looked—hard. They looked cold.

They looked like Rachel's eyes.

I had to get out.

I called up the image of the fly, turning away from the mirror so I didn't have to watch it.

There was an air vent in the bathroom, and my fly mind could tell it led to fresh air. Of course, my fly mind was mostly interested in fresh air because it led to places with garbage and rotting meat.

But it still could take me where I was going. And I the fly and I both agreed that we wanted out of this stuffy indoor place.


	2. Chapter 2

I demorphed on the roof of the hotel and morphed into seagull. Washington, DC isn't really known for its raptor population, and a seagull would blend in well enough.

I launched myself into the air, ignoring the seagull's interest in the food stands and garbage cans below, and just flew.

I landed on the roof of a big white building with twenty minutes to spare and demorphed. It was cool now, the sun starting to go down. I must have slept late into the afternoon in the hotel without realizing it. Instead of morphing again, I just lay down on the flat asphalt roof, staring at the slate-grey sky. Traffic was loud below, cars honking, clashing music, sirens, people talking, shouting, laughing.

I felt like I should cry. It wasn't just Rachel. James and his entire team were gone, gunned down one by one like a sick video game for the Yeerks. Jara Hamee.

I even wanted to cry, but I couldn't. It was like someone had stuffed a lead ball in my chest, right below my collarbone, and it was keeping the tears in. In a movie, maybe it would have started raining, and there would have been sad music. But instead, I just lay there for a long time, watching the clouds move slowly.

It was almost dark when I heard wings by me, and saw a small brown figure land. I sat up and looked over.

Tobias, in his natural form. He was the one of us who paid the first price, getting trapped in the body of a red-tailed hawk, although he regained the ability to morph later on. He'd also been through a lot, getting captured by the Yeerks a while back. And he was in love with Rachel.

I looked away first. It's hard to win a staring contest with a hawk.

It was my fault that Rachel was dead, in a way. I let the Yeerk in Tom's head take the morphing cube. I stopped Jake from killing his brother to keep it out of the Yeerks' hands. And because of that, because he ended up with that cube, Jake sent Rachel to kill his brother. Sent her on a mission they both know was suicide.

And in the end, there hadn't even been a point to it. The Yeerk in Tom's head was dead, but the ship he was on escaped. Escaped to do who-knew-what damage in the universe.

My fault. I'd told Ax once that I thought maybe it was the way to peace. It would show the Yeerks another way. I wasn't sure I'd been wrong about that.

But I wasn't sure I'd been right either.

The silence grew unbearable and I broke it finally. "I won't apologize. I did what I thought was the right thing. We'll all have to live with our consciences now." I winced as the words came out. They came out angrier and unkinder than I'd meant. Tobias didn't deserve that. "I'm—I'm sorry, Tobias. It's just—I can't believe it's— " I trailed off, looking down. What right did I have to complain? Even now, Tobias was still stuck in a hawk's body, and always would be.

I don't hate you. That made me look up, a bit surprised. His thought-speak sounded…odd. Flat, in a way that I hadn't heard before, like all the color had drained out of it. I probably should. But you…just did what you do. And Rachel did what she does. Did. Jake… The thought speak died out, but I could feel the waves of anger coming out of him.

I felt like I should say something profound. The others used to say I was the moral compass of the team. The tree-hugger. The one who'd say it if we were going too far.

But really, how was I any better? At every step, I'd helped. I'd cooperated.

I'd killed. I'd killed more living beings that I'd ever be able to count, and some of them, many of them were innocent. Just hosts, being used by the Yeerks, hapless prisoners who happened to be carrying a parasite in their brain. And many of the Yeerks had seen no other way to live.

"Jake did what he thought he had to." The words were hollow in my ears, even though I knew they were true.

Yeah? How will that bring Rachel back, Cassie? How's it going to bring _any_ of them back?

I couldn't answer that. I just fell silent again, staring out at the other buildings around us, at the sky above. Tobias perched by me for a long time, until the sun was starting to set. Part of me wanted to stay on this roof forever, and just let the world pass by. But it was getting dark and cold, and my parents were going to be frantic.

Funny that they'd probably be just as worried about me sneaking out of the hotel room than they had been when I was on a Yeerk pool ship, surrounded by thousands of enemies. Maybe it was because they understood the danger better here. A big city—there were muggers and kidnappers.

Like any human criminal would or could tangle with me now.

It occurred to me as I sat up that I wasn't sure how to get back. I wasn't even positive what hotel we were staying in, let alone what street it was on. "Did you see what hotel they put us in?"

Yeah. You're not far from the Mall. Come on. I'll fly you back, but let's hurry. Hawks don't like flying in the dark.

I nodded and risked morphing into osprey. If anyone was paying attention, they'd think something was up, but no seagull can match a red-tail hawk for speed. We still launched into the air separately, keeping our distance, but staying close enough to see each other. That isn't hard when you're in a raptor morph—when your life depends on hunting and killing small rodents from the sky, you have to have some pretty amazing eyesight.

Tobias led the way back to the hotel we were staying in, not saying anything more. I think we were both too lost in our own heads. It wasn't until we were almost on the roof that I broke the silence. You could stay with me, if you want. In the hotel. Until we—until we know what we're going to do next.

His 'voice' had that flat tone again when he spoke. And what, sleep in the dresser drawer?

I would have winced at that if I could. At first, after he became a _nothlit_ —someone trapped in a morph permanently—Jake had made a sort of nest for him in his attic in an old dresser drawer. It hadn't lasted long, and he'd moved out into the woods.

Those woods were a charred crater along with the rest of our homes now.

I demorphed before I answered. "Offer stands, if you ever change your mind."

Tobias didn't answer. I watched him launch off the roof and wing his way towards the Mall in the last rays of the sun before I morphed back into fly to head back inside to the hotel room.

It took me a while to find the right room, and I was starting to feel really guilty by the time I crept through the vent in the bathroom and demorphed. My parents probably _were_ worried sick by now. At least when we were all hiding in the woods, they knew when I was going on a mission.

I landed in the shower and demorphed, in case anyone came in—morphing into or out of insects is always hideous.

I pulled the curtains open and walked into the main hotel room, stopping when I saw my mother's tear-stained face, my father holding her hand. "What's wrong?" I demanded, feeling a spike of anger. Why couldn't the world leave us _alone_? And if something was wrong with the peace process, why hadn't Jake gotten ahold of me?

My mother shook her head and wiped her eyes. "It's—it's Rachel, dear." I looked at her blankly, unable to understand what she was talking about. "They've…they've recovered her body."


	3. Chapter 3

I went cold from head to toe, like someone had dumped a huge bucket of ice water over me. I'd known—I'd known that she was gone. But hearing the words Iher body/I brought it home somehow. Made it real.

Part of me wanted to sway on my feet and my mother stepped forward to hug me. I backed a half-step and stiffened my back, hating myself for the hurt look on her face. "Where…where are they taking her—body?" The word was hard to say, but I kept my voice level. Tobias was heartbroken. Jake had fallen apart. Ax didn't know our customs. Marco was…Marco. One of us had to handle this.

One of us Animorphs.

Maybe I was just glad for something to do, too. I accused Rachel once of enjoying the war, of living for it. But I wasn't too sure what to do now either, if I was honest.

My parents looked at me blankly. "We…we didn't…"

I turned on my heel and walked out for a second time that day. Honestly, I didn't know what had gotten into me, but I couldn't seem to stop. As I'd expected, there was someone standing guard right outside the door. Two Marines, in camouflage, fully armed. I still had my morphing clothes on, and I had left the shoes in the bathroom when I morphed earlier. Nonetheless, they turned stiffly and saluted. "Good evening, Ma'am."

I wasn't really sure how to respond to that, so I nodded politely before continuing. "Did General Doubleday survive the attack?"

"Yes, Ma'am. The General assigned us to your detail."

I nodded a second time, decision firming. "I need to speak to him. I'll get changed and be back shortly." I turned and went back into the hotel room, looking at my parents. They had the sort of half-guilty look people get when they were talking about you. "Mom, do we have any other clothes here?" I didn't want to meet Doubleday in my dirty, torn morphing suit, although I would if I had to.

She nodded once, standing up and wiping her eyes a bit. "Yes. We had them get a few things while you were sleeping. It's not fancy, but it should fit, more or less." She leaned over to a dresser and pulled out some neatly folded clothes—blue jeans, a flannel shirt, socks—even clean underwear. "We've got shoes too."

I went and hugged her once, a bit fiercely, glad she'd thought of it. "I'm going to take a quick shower." I took the clothes and closed the door, glad to scrub off. My hair was going to be a real mess when I got to it, but I didn't want to take the time to re-braid it now, so I let it be. Mostly, I wanted to scrub the accumulated dirt of months in the woods off.

It took a while, and I probably ruined one of the hotel's white washcloths trying to get the blood out from under my nails, but I got it well enough. I dried off and changed into the clothes my mom had gotten.

When I was done, I came out to find my parents both looking serious and worried. "Where do you think you're going?" my mom asked.

I knew it was wrong. I knew it was the absolute wrong thing to do. But the entire situation was so utterly bizarre. We were in a hotel room that we could never have afforded, even before my parents' business was vaporized, with Marines standing outside, ready to salute a sixteen-year-old in a leotard because she'd just helped to take down an entire army, mostly with four other kids not old enough to vote and an teenage alien. And my parents were acting like they were about to ground me for failing a test.

I burst into laughter.

I laughed and I laughed, and I found I couldn't stop, could barely breathe from it. Then it turned into screaming, racking sobs, and my parents were there, hugging me tightly, holding me as my legs went out from under me. My father caught me, and I felt his strong arms guide me down to sit on the end of the bed, my mother rubbing my back. I leaned against my father, smelling aftershave that wasn't his, sobbing on and on into his chest, the way I hadn't since I was a little kid and broke my arm falling out of a tree. I felt my mom's tears fall on my shoulder too, as she held both of us close.

I don't really know how long I was like that. It felt like I was crying an ocean, but the tears kept coming. Eventually, they started to subside a little, turning into hiccups and sniffles. My mom grabbed a tissue box for me.

For a lot longer, I just stayed there. It was—different, letting them comfort me. I knew they still didn't really understand, but for so long, we'd all had to hide what was going on from our parents. It felt…not good, but a little less bad to be Cassandra Price instead of Cassie the Animorph for a little while.

But I also knew that I was still Cassie the Animorph. And I still had a job to do. I blew my nose and dried my eyes. The tears were still coming, and I forced myself to breathe and to control them. "I—" it took a minute to get my voice steady. "I need to go talk to General Doubleday and find out where they're going to take Rachel's body. I need to…make arrangements."

I pulled away from them, even though I wished I didn't have to. My dad's eyes were red too, but he looked confused. "Shouldn't that be Naomi's job?"

I shook my head, fighting down the urge to start laughing again. I didn't want to start that up again. "Naomi's Rachel's mom. But she was our…" Words failed me for a minute. I wasn't even sure what the right word was to use for Rachel. How did you describe someone you'd fought for and with for three years, someone who'd saved your life and who you'd saved more times than either of you could count. Someone who drove you crazy but you also didn't know how to live without? " _Shorm._ She was our _shorm_. One of us has to do this."

My dad nodded slowly. "Do you want us to come with you?"

I shook my head. "Not this time. But maybe you should get packed up. I think we'll be heading back to California soon."

I used a washcloth to help reduce the puffiness and redness of my eyes before I went out the door to talk to the Marines. If they'd heard anything or noticed anything, they didn't say anything. I was glad for that.

* * *

They escorted me and handed me off to other armed Marines who drove me to the Pentagon. I watched the traffic through the tinted windows. It wasn't as far as I'd imagined. We drove by the Washington monument, flooded with lights. Bats swooped around it, which made me smile slightly. It was basically an all-you-can-eat buffet for them—bugs would be drawn by the floodlights and the bats could just eat their fill. I'd been a bat before, watching the world like it was made up of flashes of outlines, like an animated storyboard being watched under strobe lights.

With my escort, we were able to bypass security and head into the place where Doubleday was. Honestly, I'd sort of imagined long black and white hallways with dramatic boardrooms, but mostly, it looked like a really nice office building.

General Doubleday was in a very nice office that was larger than the hotel room we were staying in, working on reports. I wondered, vaguely, if he was working here temporarily or if they'd given him this as a permanent office. Probably the second option. You come to the rescue of the entire planet, and people are probably happy to give you a promotion.

"Cassie. Sargent Ramirez said you wanted to speak to me." It wasn't a question.

I sat down and nodded. "My parents were told they found Rachel's body."

He nodded once, a sharp movement. "Yes. Captain-Prince Asculan informed us. They are waiting for instructions on what to do with it."

"Have them take it back to California. I'll need transportation for myself, my parents, and the other Animorphs and their families. We'll make the arrangements from there." I was a little surprised at myself, distantly, giving orders like that. But he just looked down and jotted down a few notes. "I'll have you picked up at 0600 tomorrow. Do you need anything else?"

"We'll need to find them all a temporary place to live until something more permanent can be managed." Our homes were all destroyed in the final attacks.

"We'll see to it," he said, and I stood to leave. "Cassie." I turned back, a little bit surprised that he'd called after me. We'd only worked together a little, really. He motioned for me to sit back down, and I did. For several minutes, we looked at each other.

I wondered what he saw.

Finally, he spoke. "I've been through three wars now. Vietnam. The Gulf. This mess. And here's what people who aren't soldiers don't know. You rely on your comrades in a way you never rely on any other person. Not a wife or husband. Not a parent. No one. It has to be that way, because you've got to be ready to die for them, and they've got to feel the same way. Even if you don't _like_ each other, you still have to be ready to die for each other.

"When soldiers loose someone in their unit…it can mess people up badly. You depend on someone that heavily and then suddenly they're gone? People fall apart. If the commander isn't careful, the unit falls apart. And when you suddenly go back to civilian life, and no one really gets it? There's a reason why there are a lot of veterans living on the streets."

He flipped through a Rolodex, took out a small card, and copied down a name and phone number. "This is the contact information for a friend of mine. He works with a lot of veterans, especially ones who've lost someone. If you need it, call him. Tell him I sent you."

I nodded a little, and pocketed the card. "Thank you, General Doubleday." I wasn't sure if I'd ever use it but it was nice to have. Just in case.

For now, though, I wasn't quite done with the war. And I still had a duty to my friend and my team.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Sorry about the delay! Holidays slowed me down a bit. I hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving!

TW: This chapter has a moderately graphic depiction of a human corpse. If this will bother you, I recommend skipping this chapter.

* * *

I'd never been in a morgue before.

It's funny, really, because I've seen a lot of dead bodies. Probably more than an average mortician. And not just humans—Hork-Bajir, Taxxons, Yeerks. Can you imagine seeing something that's like a giant centipede have its belly sliced open, and then seeing its comrades feast on the fresh corpse?

I don't have to imagine.

The funny thing is, those were all newly dead bodies, and in fights. Us or them. Kill or be killed. I wasn't sure it was right, but there's a certain focus you get when people are trying to kill you. It helps you ignore some things, at least until later.

It was strange, but I found my stomach was tight with nervousness as Naomi and I waited for the attendant. The beings I'd killed before, they were strangers. This was _Rachel_ , Rachel who'd always been so alive.

Rachel's mom had managed to find some nice clothes and makeup for herself. Rachel would probably have approved. She'd have said that just because we were going to identify her body, that didn't mean we should let ourselves go. She hadn't been able to stop crying since we got into the car—this stiff, quiet sort of crying where I could tell that she was trying to be tough.

I leaned over and put an arm around her, trying to comfort her a little. It was funny—she'd complained so much and tried to run off so many times while we were in the woods. More than any of the other parents, she hadn't taken it well. But here, she was trying to be as tough as she could while she was getting ready to see her daughter's body.

The attendant came out. The room wasn't really like I'd imagined it from movies—it was more comfortable and a lot brighter than I expected. There was even some music. And the attendant looked mostly like a doctor or a nurse. She sat down with a file folder.

"Ms. Altman. Cassie." She set the folder on the table between us, still closed. "Before you open this, I'd like to let you know a little about what you're going to see. What we believe was Rachel was recovered in space by the Andalite forces, in orbit around Earth. Now, exposure to space causes some drying out, so I want to warn you that she may look a bit different. Give yourself a few minutes if you need it."

Naomi didn't move, staring at the folder like it was a snake. I leaned forward and picked it up, opening it.

The photographs inside were clinical. The body had been cleaned up, I could tell that. The face was sunken, as if someone had started to shrink-wrap it onto the skull beneath. The color was oddly preserved, although her hair looked strange and stiff, like a bad wig. She'd have hated that. I could hear Naomi sobbing next to me, but it sounded like it was a really long way away. "That's Rachel." I was surprised at how my voice sounded. It didn't quite sound like mine, somehow. I stood up, putting the folder on the table. "I want to see her."

The attendant looked a bit alarmed and shook her head. "That's really not a good—"

I cut her off with a glare. "I've just helped take down an entire army. Do you _really_ think you're going to stop me from going in there?" I almost winced at the coldness in my voice, but I couldn't seem to stop either.

The woman swallowed and said, "I'll go speak to my manager."

I nodded once and sat down to wait. I wasn't above morphing fly and sneaking in if I had to, but I'd rather not. I didn't have my morphing uniform.

The attendant came back with her manager. He sighed and shook his head. "May I speak to you privately, Ms. Price?"

That brought Naomi's head up, and she glared at him too, standing up and stepping into his space. "I am a licensed lawyer in this state. Do you seriously expect to keep me out of this either?"

I had to fight down a laugh at that—I wasn't sure I could keep it from going too far, like back at the hotel. But she sounded so much like her old self just then, tears and now slightly-rumpled suit and all. "Speak to both of us, please."

He sighed and sat down, motioning for us to do the same. "We generally don't show the bodies to the families in these cases. There are…injuries that can be avoided in the photographs, and I think you'd be happier without seeing them. Imagine her as she was."

I laughed once, a bitter sound. "I watched her die. We all did." Well, the Animorphs had. Not Rachel's mother. The point was still the same. "She deserves this."

The man sighed and nodded, before leading us in. The room itself looked more like what I'd expected—a wall of doors concealing the bodies. He went to the right one, and opened it, before pulling it out.

The body was wrapped in a soft white fabric I didn't recognize. Probably it was the Andalites that had done that. I noticed that there wasn't any blood on the fabric, which seemed weird at first. But I supposed by the time they found her, it would have frozen or something. The man gently went to lift the corner of the fabric up to show her face. I saw the discoloration at the back of her head where it had slammed into the bulkhead when the polar bear-morphed Yeerk killed her.

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the emptiness well up in me.

It was true. Rachel was dead.

I was never going to hear her tease me about my unfashionable clothes again. I was never going to get dragged to the mall to go shopping. I was never going to hear Marco tease her by calling her Xena.

I was never going to fight by her side again.

I heard Naomi burst into sobs and get led out by the manager, leaving me alone for a minute.

I stared at the body. It looked like a body, not like a person sleeping.

My family was never that religious. We went to church sometimes, did a few social things there now and then. I didn't believe that much in it, especially after what we knew about the Ellimist and Crayak. But at that moment, I wished I did a little.

I swallowed a little, and looked at the stiff face. "I'm sorry. I wish…I wish it hadn't happened. I know you'd probably say it was necessary and that Jake—Jake made the right call. I think you probably knew what was going to happen. But I—" I swallowed back tears of my own. "We're all going to miss you. Especially Tobias. I think he's—I don't know." I fell quiet for a few moments. "You scared me sometimes, but I knew—I knew you'd always be there, when we got into a fight. You were amazing, and I wish you could have been here to see this."

I swallowed, and I felt the tears running down my face as I leaned over to put the cloth back over her face and push the table back in. "Bye, Rachel. I'll miss you."


	5. Chapter 5

I don't actually remember much of the funeral. I think I made a speech, but I couldn't tell you what I said. Honestly, the only part I do remember clearly is the part everyone knows about: Tobias carrying off Rachel's urn at the end.

I still think that was the best possible way to honor her.

The press was crazy, and I think I read somewhere that there were more than fifty thousand people in attendance, with many more who couldn't make it in. A security detail had to escort us out to keep us from being mobbed by the media, and I ended up walking by Marco.

None of us had really talked much since the end of the war. I knew all of our parents were working on finding apartments or houses—Jake's parents were planning to take him and go stay with family, and Rachel's mom was looking at houses. Mine were looking for an apartment for the time being, until the business insurance got cleared up.

I looked over at Marco, trying to smile. "So. What's next?"

Marco looked a little sheepish. "Well. We're big news, you know. I've got more offers than I know what to do with. I'm doing _Good Morning, America_ tomorrow, then Oprah the day after. I've got this big interview thing where all the news networks are going to talk to me in a row. The producers of Baywatch are interested in talking a deal for me to play a shark in the next season." He grinned at me. "So I've got this plan. Kelly Packard will be there, and I'm this shark, right, and she gets into trouble in the water, and—"

I laughed—for real this time, and not just hysterically. "Marco, you're an idiot." But I said it fondly, in a way. After all this time, he was sort of like a brother. An annoying brother, but a brother.

His smile caught a little before he put it back on. "Careful, Cassie. You sounded like Rachel there. You start letting her possess you, and the next thing you know, you'll be wearing designer jeans…"

I snorted a little at that. It felt good to laugh, it felt almost a little normal.

Whatever normal meant these days.

"What about you, Cassie?" he asked. "I mean, you must be getting swamped with requests too. God knows what they must be doing to Jake."

I shrugged a little. My mom had mentioned something about media people calling, but I hadn't paid much attention. "I don't know. School, I guess."

Marco laughed at that too. "Right. So, subject of your next essay: 'How I spent my summer saving the world, by Cassie Price, age 16'?"

I rolled my eyes but found myself grinning. Marco does that, he lightens the mood when you need it the most. "It's not a bad idea, actually—writing something. Just think about what it would do if people could really understand endangered species. It might make them want to actually do something to protect them."

Marco groaned dramatically. "Cassie, Cassie, come on! Don't add to the world's collection of books kids have to read in school."

"Some of us _do_ read occasionally." I'd even enjoyed some of the books we read in school. _The Giver_ was pretty good, and I liked _Fahrenheit 451_ too. Though honestly, I hadn't done much of the required reading in the last couple of years, just enough to keep from failing out.

I stopped suddenly for a half step, before catching back up. "What's wrong?" asked Marco.

I didn't answer at first. I wasn't sure Marco would understand. Or maybe I was afraid he would, and didn't want to be the one to say it.

"I just realized that what topic to choose for my essay or what classes I should take…that's going to matter again." It had all seemed so unimportant for so long, in comparison with everything else. We'd all tried to keep up with our homework enough, but that was to keep our parents from grounding us and interfering with our fight against the Yeerks.

Marco looked at me with that shrewd look of his, the one where you remember that the dumb, goofy act he does _is_ just an act. "You mean, you're realizing that we aren't going to be making all those live-or-die decisions. I thought you'd be happy about that."

"I am. It's just…different."

Marco shrugged and grinned. "Yeah. Good different, though. We've got three years of catching up on not doing anything useful. Live a little, Cassie! Hug a tree. Save a duck. Whatever."

* * *

I hesitated outside the door to the barracks where Jake and his parents were staying. What was I going to say? What _was_ there to say?

I finally rolled my eyes at myself. I'd faced down Visser One, and a door was too much for me? I raised my hands and knocked.

Jake's dad was the one who answered the door. He nodded at me, and called into the room for Jake, who'd been staring out the window. It took a moment, but he stood up and came to the door.

I didn't mean to, but I stared at him. Have you ever played with the color settings on your TV, and turned a full color program into a black and white one? That was what he reminded me of. He looked so listless, so out of it. And he also looked like he hadn't combed his hair in about three days.

I forced myself to stop staring, and jerked my head a little for him to walk with me. I figured it'd be easier if we weren't just looking at each other.

Jake and I were close for years. After Rachel, I'd have said he was my best friend. And for some time, he'd been my boyfriend. But that was over now, even if we'd never actually said it was. The war was heaviest on Jake, I think. He was our leader, he was the one who'd made the hardest calls. He was the one who'd have to bear the responsibility.

He was the one who ordered Rachel to her death.

And I'd made the decision to let the Yeerk in his brother's head take the morphing cube. That had accelerated the war, and it was probably what forced him to kill Tom.

I think we'd both done what we thought was the right thing, but there are some things that a relationship won't survive.

"We're leaving tomorrow, to stay with Aunt Ellen and Uncle George," he said finally.

I nodded. I'd met them once, briefly, although we were all busy with other issues at the time. "That's good." It sounded dumb even in my head, and dumber when I said it. "Mom and Dad found an apartment. Just a temporary one, they're going to wait until some insurance stuff gets figured out so they can rebuild the clinic."

Jake nodded too and we walked on in silence. The barracks Doubleday had arranged for us was mostly empty, although there were guards outside to keep the press from bothering us.

I knew I had to be the one to say something, but for a long time, I couldn't find the words. Finally, I just started talking. "Jake, I think you did the best you could." He opened his mouth to interrupt, but I kept talking. "No, I mean that. I know you messed up. So did I. So did Tobias and Marco and Ax—and yeah, even Rachel. We all screwed up. And I know you're going to think, _Well, I was the leader, it was my decision_. And yeah, maybe that's true. But we all followed. At every step, we kept putting you in charge. So it wasn't just you either."

I stopped and turned to face him. "Jake, Rachel was my best friend. I'm mad at you for what you did, and I'm mad you didn't tell us so we could say good-bye. But I also know why you did it. Just…try and forgive yourself someday, all right?"

Jake looked down and away, and I knew what he was thinking. He was thinking, _I don't want to forgive myself_. And I understood that too. I understood, because when you forgive yourself, you have to realize what kind of person you are. You have to realize that you're just as kill-or-be-killed, just as ruthless, just as capable of hate and cruelty as anyone else.

I knew he wasn't ready, though. Maybe he never would be. Instead, I stepped in and hugged him, close and tightly. He stiffened for a moment, and for a second, I thought he might punch me on instinct, like I had with my mom. But then he leaned into it, and wrapped his arms around me. For a long time, we just stayed like that, and I could feel we were both crying.

But eventually, Jake was the one who pulled away, forcing a smile. "You take care, Cassie."

I nodded, and smiled back, and I knew we'd never be this close again. "You too, Jake."


	6. Chapter 6

The apartment my parents found was small, but clean. They'd gotten some furniture from a thrift store nearby, and a few air mattresses. Mom joked that it was nice to get back to her college days.

I was going back to school in a couple of days. There was a decent public school nearby, and they'd gotten all the paperwork done. I think they might have been grateful for a 'normal' problem to solve, something that wasn't so overwhelming.

I didn't really know what to do with myself. All through the war, we'd talked about what we'd do when it was over. How great it'd be to go to the mall and just hang out. How fun it'd be when the biggest thing we had to worry about was whether the cute boy or girl in our class _liked_ us.

Of course, we'd also always imagined doing it as a group.

For lack of anything better to do, I was trying to catch up on my reading for school. My English class was apparently working on _Romeo and Juliet_. I was trying to focus, but I kept getting a little impatient. Their entire city was on the brink of dissolving into war, and all they could think about was getting together, instead of doing something to help. I knew from the Wishbone version that their deaths ended up bringing their families together, but that was just because the play had to have some sort of ending.

I tossed the book aside just as the door was opening. My mom smiled a little. "Shakespeare. The bane of all high school students."

I smiled back at her. It felt good to do that, smiling about something that was actually funny, not gallows-humor funny. "Maybe the people in _Fahrenheit 451_ had it right after all."

My mom chuckled. "Don't they all end up memorizing books at the end of that, or something?"

I groaned theatrically, and part of me noticed I sounded a little like Marco when I did it. "The kids in this are just so…dumb."

"The kids in that are your age," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't be all mushy like that over—" I broke off, the laugh draining out of me. I'd been about to say _Jake_ , but that was over now. And maybe I was the same age as Romeo and Juliet, but I wasn't a kid. None of us were anymore.

I think my mom sensed it, but she kept going anyway, trying not to let things get too serious. "So, we all do need to get some clothes. Your father and I thought we'd all hit the mall, get a few sets for each of us. Maybe get dinner at the food court."

I smiled again, more genuinely. "Yeah. That'd be fun."

Half an hour later, we were all walking into the food court together, and I was wondering if this was really a good idea. It was crowded, and it was making me jumpy. Ever since the Yeerks got morphing technology, we'd had to be suspicious of every bird, every single bug. Have an itch on your forehead? It might be a Controller in morph as a flea.

I knew it was stupid to be paranoid. But being paranoid had kept us alive for the last three years, and it wasn't an easy habit to break.

I found my shoulders tensing, trying to keep my parents in my line of sight at all times, while also keeping an eye on all the exits if we had to get out quickly. _Stop it, Cassie. You're acting nutso_ , I tried to tell myself. _It's just a mall. Nothing dangerous here except the possibility of food poisoning._

"Cassie, did you hear me?" I tried to focus, blinking a little and looking at my dad.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked.

He looked worried. "I said, do you want to get pizza or something else? We don't have to do this if you don't want, you know."

I shook my head, forcing myself to smile. "No, it's fine. Yeah, pizza sounds great."

"Okay. Just, let us know if you want to leave, and we'll go. You've been through a lot and—"

I knew he meant well, but I didn't want to talk about it, especially not when it'd spoil the evening. "It's _fine_. Pizza is great, really."

He nodded, although he didn't look convinced. Still, we headed up to the Sbarro counter to order our pizza. The clerk stared at me while we put in our order, in a way that made me badly want to find the nearest place I could morph. "Are you Cassie?" he blurted out finally. "Can you do an autograph?"

I just stared back, looking a bit blank. An _autograph_? Like we were celebrities? I could feel something welling up in me, something I wasn't sure I could control, but then my mom stepped in front of me.

I'd grown in the last few years, and I was taller than my mom by a couple of inches now. But I swear, when she gets mad, she does her own special brand of morphing where she grows at least two feet. And she did it now, standing between me and the acne-faced clerk. "Young man, I'm _certain_ your manger wouldn't approve of you harassing your customers, would she?" she demanded.

The boy stammered and shook his head. I almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

"Then, I think you can ring us up for our pizza promptly and we won't have to discuss it with her, will we?"

The boy nodded, dished up our order, and rang it up as quickly as he could. My father paid for it quietly and led us back to a table.

I found myself grinning a little at that, and I burst into laughter as we sat down. "That poor kid."

My dad laughed too, but my mom wasn't done being indignant. "His parents should have raised him to have better manners."

I nodded, and reached out to squeeze my mom's hand. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt a little better. Like Cassie Price, not just Cassie the Animorph. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, baby." She smiled a bit and motioned to the pizza. "And you've gotten much too skinny the last few months, so eat up."

The pizza wasn't very good—it was mall pizza, after all, but it was also some of the best pizza I'd ever had. We sat and told jokes, stupid family jokes that had happened years ago, things that were just _us_. Stories from when I was a little kid.

I found myself relaxing and enjoying myself, not watching the exits quite so much too. It was fun. A fly even landed on our table, and I just waved it away instead of freaking out. For the first time in a really long time, I thought maybe I knew what normal was. And that maybe I could find it again.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Sorry for the delay! I ended up getting extremely sick and I'm still recovering. Thanks for your patience.

* * *

High school. Marco once called it a terror beyond any battle we'd ever fought as the Animorphs. He was being sarcastic, mostly.

I never really loved or hated school. I wasn't one of those kids who got picked on a lot, but I also wasn't the popular kid. I had my friends, I did fine in classes, and that was that. I think probably being friends with Rachel helped a lot—Rachel was very popular but she was known for refusing to let anyone pick on her friends.

I smiled a little as my parents pulled up to the school in our rental car, remembering one time a kid pushed me down and Rachel gave him a black eye. She was like that, even when we were in elementary school.

My dad parked the car in the loading and unloading zone, and I looked out a bit nervously. There were so many kids, and they looked so _young_. After the incident at the mall, I wasn't sure what was going to happen, if they were going to treat me like a freak or a celebrity.

Dad seemed to feel my hesitation, because he put a hand on my shoulder—slowly so I saw it coming. "You don't have to do this now," he said gently. "You could wait until the next semester starts."

I shook my head and picked up my backpack slowly. "Thanks, Dad. But I don't want to get further behind." It wasn't entirely true, or at least it wasn't all true. I _did_ need to catch up so I could get into a good veterinary college. But mostly I didn't want to sit at home any more, thinking, without even the distraction of working in the clinic. There wasn't enough to do to keep distracted, and this was something I could focus on.

"Okay, Cassie. If you're sure, but remember, if you need to, you can call us and we'll get you, all right." He let go of my shoulder so I could slip my backpack on.

"Thanks, Dad. I'll be fine." I wasn't sure about that, but I figured there was no reason to make him worry. I took a deep breath and opened the car door, walking slowly into the school as I heard my dad drive away.

I'd already met with the school counselor, so I had my locker and the books I'd need, as well as my schedule. Math class was first, so I just had to go to my locker, pick up my books and notebook, and find the classroom.

Just a short walk. Not a big deal.

I could feel everyone staring at me. It made my shoulders itch, made me want to find a bathroom where I could safely morph and get out of here. Some of them stared and then looked away, but more of them just stared openly, not talking until I walked past.

I tried to remind myself that they were staring because we'd been on TV, and not because they were Controllers out to kill or enslave me and my friends. It still made me very nervous, and I found myself short of breath and my heart racing by the time I made it to my locker. I took longer than I had to getting my supplies for math class, double and triple checking that I had everything. The last thing I wanted was to forget something and then have everyone notice.

When I closed my locker, I noticed several people had congregated and were staring at me, but when I turned to look, they scattered like they were afraid of me.

Maybe they should have been.

I tried to pay attention in class, but the teachers were hardly any better than the students. They seemed not to know how to treat me, and seemed too nervous to actually call on me even if I raised my hand. By the time I got to lunch, I was starting to think school was a terrible mistake. I really wasn't looking forward to the lunchroom.

I used the bathroom first, wanting to avoid the big rush and getting crowded in with so many other people. I took a breath before I opened the door, hoping people would be too busy to pay attention to me.

I only got a few feet before silence fell. The entire lunchroom just stared, some of them pointing, some of them murmuring. I felt the blood rush to my face and tears sting my eyes, but I made myself walk towards the lunch counter.

That was when the clapping started.

It was slow at first, but then more of them joined in. The teachers and lunch workers did too, some of them standing.

They were clapping. _Clapping_. Like I was a sports hero, or a character in a movie.

I had killed people. I might have killed some of their family, and they were acting like it was all—like it was some sort of game.

I dropped my lunch tray and ran.

I wasn't really paying attention, I just ran out the door and away from people, away from the crowd. I found a room that didn't have any lights on, and yanked the door open, closing and locking it behind myself, and then running behind the teacher's desk at the front, and sitting down, head on my knees.

I found myself sobbing hard, hating this school and everyone in it. Hating that they had no idea, _no idea_ what it was really like. They didn't know me, and they didn't know us. They had no idea what we'd done. The terrible choices…

I heard the door lock click and the door open.

I tried to smother the noise, but I wasn't very successful. There was a pause and then the light flicked on before I heard the door close and footsteps head towards the desk. I tried to wipe at my eyes and stood up, figuring I might as well try to face whoever it was.

The woman standing there had a teacher's badge that said Valarie Keyes. She was about my height or maybe an inch or two shorter. She had tight curly hair that had more than a bit of grey and skin that was a few shades lighter than mine, and the sort of nice-but-practical clothes that a lot of teachers wore: a blouse and skirt, a sweater, and flat shoes that looked like they'd be comfortable to wear for eight hours on your feet every day.

"S-sorry," I said, trying to control my breathing a bit.

She smiled a little, not unkindly. "Not the first time a student's cried in my classroom. Why don't you have a seat—it'll be more comfortable than sitting on the dirty floor."

I sat in one of the student chairs, and she gave me a box of tissues before settling down in her own swivel chair. She didn't stare, and she took out a book to read, sort of like she'd listen if I wanted or pretend I wasn't crying if that was better.

I did keep crying for quite some time, using up most of her tissue box before I ran out of tears. When I started to run down to sniffles instead, I gathered up the used tissues and threw them out. "Sorry. Thanks."

She set her book down and looked up with a kindly smile. "You're welcome." She paused a moment. "You'll be Cassie Price, I take it?"

I nodded, worried she was going to get weird about it, but she just opened a planner to check something. "You're in my fourth period English class, I believe. Mm, yes, there you are," she confirmed as she found the page she was looking for.

I realized she was right, and this was one of the classrooms I'd located with the counselor. Probably I'd headed for it without thinking. "Oh." I knew it was a stupid thing to say, but I wasn't sure what else to say.

"You're welcome to stay until class starts, if you want, and you can eat lunch here if you like, at least on days I don't have meetings. I can write a note for you. I eat lunch in the lounge and only come back when I have work to do, so you'll have it to yourself for at least part of the time." She said it matter-of-factly, not like a favor or like she was afraid I might break.

Still, I didn't want any special treatment. "You don't have to do that. It was just, um, too much for my first day."

She shrugged a little. "You're news, I'm afraid. In a week or two, they'll get interested in something else and stop treating you differently, but until then, it might make it easier not to have to eat with a crowd."

I hesitated but then nodded. "Thanks. It's nice of you."

"It's practical, don't you think? It's never easy to go back to school after such a gap. We might as well make it easier." She turned on her computer and logged in, turning back to work and letting me get settled.

I nodded, swallowing past a lump in my throat. _Such a gap_ was an understatement, but I appreciated her not treating me differently.

Maybe school would be tolerable after all.


End file.
